Safe
by Okobo-chan
Summary: Mori comes to a realization much too quickly, but entirely too late. All that's left is to piece together the aftermath and reassure her that she's..
1. Chapter 1

Title: Safe

Series: Ouran High School Host Club  
Pairing: Mori/Haruhi  
Rating: M (adult content, violence)  
Summary: Mori comes to a realization much too quickly, but entirely too late. All that's left is to piece together the aftermath and reassure her that she's...

Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club, nor any of the innumerable characters and content therein. I am making no profit from this jumble of words.

**..Safe : Chapter 1..**

"Mo-..._Mori-senpai._"

Her voice was weak, thready even. Tremulous against the deafening silence that - out of less than a handful of instances in his life - was entirely unwelcome and terrifying in it's absoluteness. She was barely ever frightened. Never concerned with her own welfare in contrast to her catering to that of others; so the sick feeling that welled at her terror made the bleak situation that was unfolding before him that much worse. Haruhi was strong. Abnormally independent to the point of rashness, always forgetting to rely on others no matter how close by. So hearing her cry for help, to _him_, the perennial bodyguard, set his teeth on edge.

Because there was nothing he could do. Not a single thing.

He cursed himself, cursed all the Gods and even Hani as he watched the naked edge of the blade caress the tender skin of her exposed throat. Haruhi inched her body away from the knife, and he inwardly flinched as the man holding her wrenched her hair tighter before dragging her indecently against his body. She stiffened, wide eyes distant with shock. The man rifling through the register snickered, a disgusting sound that broke his silent contemplation of how to disarm the assailant who held Haruhi hostage without harming her in the process. Currently impossible. He'd have to bide his time and wait for an opening.

"Takashi..." Hani's eyes were sharp, body rigid and drawn up to full height as he clenched his fists, chest heaving. All softness from the little host was lost as he'd fallen into his battle ready darker persona.

"No Mitsukuni." He dropped his shoulders back in a silent rebuke, tilting his chin downwards to emphasize the point without letting his gaze leave Haruhi's. If the man made a definitive move to eliminate her, he'd be right alongside Hani as he flew across the room. But the risk for the time being was too great.

"Shut up, the both of you." The shorter, dark haired man at the cash register stopped stuffing bills into a duffel bag, rapping his baseball bat against the floor menacingly with a growl. Their only advantage was the lack of firearms. The two petty thieves couldn't possibly have afforded black market weapons.

It had been an impulsive stop, and yet somewhat expected due to present company as they'd driven home from their latest host club excursion. The two cousins had insisted on driving her home, and she'd surprisingly relented. Hani had pointed out a local confectionery, a small upscale parlor that catered to discriminating tastes and expensive clientele. The small, tucked away location with few employees and over stuffed coffers must have made it stand out like the motherload of all hold-ups to these two petty thieves. They might have resembled them, but they were obviously _not_ yakuza. True Japanese mafia wouldn't operate with this much lack of sophistication. At least in broad daylight in this section of town they wouldn't. No, by their actions and lack of defining tells these men were criminals of the lowest order; honorless opportunists. The lowest ranking yanki at best.

The first thing they'd done was grab Satsuma-san, the ever familiar clerk who Hani adored, and demand that she open the cash register. It was entirely without warning. One second the two darkly suited men were purchasing a decadent box of truffles, the next they had an eight months pregnant Nasuti Satsuma shoved against the back countertop with a knife in her face, her shrieking muffled by hands as one of the men frantically attempted to cover her mouth with duct tape.

His heart stopped when Haruhi rushed forward to put her arms around the other woman, begging to replace her as a hostage. She'd acted so quickly and he'd been so focused on the men themselves as well as Hani's whereabouts that his fingertips merely grazed her dress as she'd darted out of his arms reach and into danger. Too worried for Satsuma-san, neither man had moved to act as the knife in hand swung dangerously around the two vulnerable women.

He damned himself for that moment. Despite all his attentiveness, all his careful and ever watchful eyes towards his more esteemed cousin he was well aware that the small man was more than able to protect himself. Hani even had an edge on his own judo and karate, overpowering him by far in their private sparring matches. He relied heavily on his kendo, making him more strongly suited to fighting with a weapon rather than hand to hand combat, and the smaller man's lower center of gravity made him harder to overwhelm and throw off balance. Haruhi had no formal training other than what she had learned in grade school and was utterly defenseless. Instead of protecting the true innocent he'd given in to years of honed instinct, zeroing in on protecting his charge while filtering out all other surroundings.

The man snickered when Hani growled at his tightened grasp, playfully planting an open-mouthed kiss on Haruhi's cheek. She had gone stock still, face stoney at the man's taunting. Mori clenched his teeth harder, grinding them against eachother silently, unwilling to react and give the man more reason to continue. Behind them, Nasuti whimpered and covered her face.

"Cut that shit out. No need to piss them off any more'n necessary." The spiky haired man at the cash register grimaced back at his accomplice, no longer amused. "Just in case."

He had no idea.

* * *

"I've seen you looking at her."

Mori turned to regard his cousin quizzically.

"Looking at Haru-chan." Hani's unnaturally flat and serious eyes stared into his own for a tense moment before the dark haired kendoist shifted his gaze to his work as he mechanically restrung his shinai. The cording had frayed during his last tournament, and he was loathe to replace the grip on his current model before next weekends match. It was perfectly broken into his finger placement. Strong hands pulled the string taut even as he gave way to his familial superior's not so silent prodding.

"We all look at her." He carefully knotted the bamboo into position, snapping the nylon to check it's tension against the catch of a calloused finger.

Hani shook his head, sighing as he stretched his lengthening limbs in the mid-afternoon sun. His back was sweat slicked, and he needed a snack. Relenting to his companions soft rebuke, he dropped the subject with one last parting shot. He did hate to loose.

"Not like you do, Takashi."

* * *

"Give me your wallet." She stiffened further. "Give it to me, and nothing stupid."

The blond punk loosened his grip on the petite brunette, giving her enough slack to reach into her jacket pocket and draw out her small black wallet, all without letting her out of his encircled arms. Haruhi held it out, and the man snatched it from her, beginning to rifle through it's contents with the knife slung between two fingers, arms outstretched in front of them both. His eyes darted between the wallet and the two hosts, paranoid. It was empty, aside from one solitary thousand yen note.

"What the _fuck_ is this shit?" Haruhi began to respond, but was cut off as the man began to rant without giving her a word edgewise, fumbling with knife awkwardly until he dropped the wallet and brought it's edge back up to her throat menacingly. "This isn't a joke. Give me _all _your damn money, woman. Not your fucking pocket change."

Both the Ouran boys tensed, sensing the shift in her captors animosity immediately.

"It's all I have." Her voice had gone strong once again with the truth, only wavering towards the end as the man growled, edging the knife closer to her jugular. "I'm not lying."

"Bullshit. You wouldn't be here if you weren't loaded. I've seen the type of people who drop cash here. Where is it?" Slow rage was building in the man's face as he was denied his easy target.

"I don't have any more money. That's all I have."

At her response the man moved from her hair to grip her throat with one hand, brandishing the knife with the other. Haruhi choked, and Mori's vision nearly blanked with his own fury at the mans actions. He took a step forward.

"Hey." Hani's voice rang out, over the panting gasps escaping from Haruhi's encircled throat and Nasuti's quiet whimpering from behind the counter. The suit's grip slackened with his uncertainty. "It's true. That's all she has."

The con whipped his head around to stare at the small blond, eyes narrowing as his pupils pin pricked from the adrenaline of loosing his temper.

"I'm holding her money for her. She didn't want to carry a purse today." Hani's voice was gruff despite his outwardly placid face, betraying his outrage.

It was a half truth. Haruhi hadn't wanted to carry a purse; she hadn't wanted to wear anything she was currently wearing. The twins had stripped her of her normal baggy sweatpants and trainers when they ambushed her at her apartment, forcing her into a classy runway style that had her looking as if she'd walked out of a boutique in Paris. They'd taken her to a three Michelin star French style restaurant as a treat. It had been her birthday the day before, but she'd refused to skip school because of an important midterm.

"You think you're funny, don't you? Think you're going to pull a fast one on me?" He was snarling, knife glancing off Haruhi's cheek as he gestured wildly, drawing first blood as both Ouran men ramped up their efforts as they searched for an opening that didn't put her at risk. "No woman goes shopping without a shit ton of cash or a credit card, and there's no card. You're holding out on me." The man clenched down during his tirade, cutting off her air supply even more as she wheezed underneath his stranglehold.

"Please let her go." The words were past his lips before they even entered his consciousness, startling both himself and his cousin. He paused, searching for the negotiation skills he was so unused to utilizing. "We have money." Slowly, so as not to set either man off, he reached into his pocket to find his own wallet, splaying it open for the men to see the contents. Several large denominations of yen and shiny plastic cards to draw off both men. He prayed for it to work. _Willed_ it to work.

"Drop it man, look, they're banking us. We've got the till. Let's _get the fuck __**out**__ of here_."

The man behind the cash register was antsy, moving from foot to foot as he tapped his baseball bat against a counter, shooting worried looks to the front window. They'd somehow disabled the panic button behind the cash register earlier in the day, as Nasuti had wailed upon pressing it to the tune of the robbers maniacal laughter when they followed her frantic actions. They'd snatched up all their cellphones immediately too. But that didn't mean a beat cop from the local Koban couldn't screw the entire heist if he walked in on the scene.

"No man, she's holding out on us. She must be holding something big if it's that fucking important."

Haruhi had reached up to grasp the mans hands, beginning to struggle against her captors hold. She tugged, her deep brown eyes huge and distant as she rasped in a full breath from her efforts, only to let go of a belated cry as the man moved his hand downwards to slice into her grasping knuckles.

Mori rocked in place, momentum building up to nearly his breaking point as he hunched over into form.

* * *

She was being pulled in three different directions.

Her eyes were pinned on Kyoya, mouth pursed as he raised her debt once again for someone else's mistake. That someone, or someones, were pulling her limbs in various states of discomforting angles as the twins and Tamaki shouted at one another over possession. It was the same, always the same. He let his eyes drop, calmly shifting his hands into his lap at warriors rest, hiding his reaction as he dug his fingertips into his pant-legs in frustration.

Her shouts of irritation went ignored. Hani sat in front of him, blithely shoveling his way through a strawberry cheesecake at frightening speeds. Mori looked up from his lap to find Hani's overly sharp eyes biting into his own, body tense as he chewed before moving to deposit the strawberry onto the empty plate that sat in front of the gentle giant. Empty save his own strawberry; uneaten. He waited.

"_Stop it!_" She struggled. "Let me _go!_"

Mori meditated, measuring his breaths as he counted the seeds in the perfect strawberry that sat with it's new partner. She loved strawberries. He could feel her eyes dart to him even with his back turned. Still he waited.

"How dare you corrupt my sweet, innocent daughter!" "You're a pervert boss, _pervert._"

More struggling. He could hear the fabric of her jacket twist in their hands, the squelch of her shoes as she scrabbled for purchase against the highly polished floor without success. Skin against skin as she tugged and pulled their hands off her person. He smoothed his pants as they crumpled under his grip.

Hani stared. And Mori waited for Haruhi to ask for help.

* * *

"For fucks sake, lady, give it up. He means business." The other man toyed with the baseball bat, gesturing meaningfully towards the unarmed men. "If you haven't figured it out, he's not goin' ta let up until you fork it over."

"I have nothing to give you!" The exasperation in her voice set her captor off, and he wrenched her face around until he was peering into her eyes, her skin mottling under his grip.

"I'm out. Let's fucking _get out of here_. _**Now**_." The man with the now full bag of cash walked out the door, leaving his accomplice behind.

The remaining robber's face had nearly purpled with rage, and his voice shook as he spoke so angrily that he was spitting.

"Give it **here**, woman."

In the background, Nasuti was sobbing quietly, collapsed on the floor as she wrapped an arm around her wide stomach. All of them watched as the mans knife waved between them, lowered hand gesturing with the obviously forgotten weapon. Mori gauged his reaction time, watching as he shifted when Haruhi moved.

He felt Hani tense beside him, and he held his hand out palm down to keep him in place. He wanted that knife far, far away from her when Mitsukuni tackled the man. Instinctively, he knew where his cousin would strike, relying on him to pull Haruhi out of the mans striking distance as the smaller boy neutralized their quarry. It was just common sense. One wrong move, however, could tip their hand.

Mori cursed his lack of hakama, the long fabrics ability to hide the shifting of his feet as he slowly crept closer. His heart raced, blood pressure thrumming as he watched the thin cut on her face dry in messy red drips. No one touched her like that, _no one_. The Ootori police force had known that truth when he'd relieved them of their charges after she'd been attacked at the beach, that their prisoners would arrive at the local police station even less intact than after the twins schooling. Hani had only praised him for a job well done.

He wanted blood. He wanted to see this man collapsing under the weight of his own folly after he'd finished making sure he'd never be able to manhandle anyone ever again. He wanted to rip the knife from his hands then filet him with it. He wanted..

Haruhi began to struggle. And then the world tilted.

* * *

It was the first time he'd seen her in kimono. The twins had finally caught up with her before she'd gotten to the shrine that year, and they'd dressed her in New Year's finest. Haruhi's face glowed from the nest of soft rabbits fur she wore for a shawl, and his mouth went dry at the sight of her fragile wrists as they slipped from her sleeves, peeking out of their layered confines when she went to pick up the onamori she didn't have enough money to purchase. He'd actually managed to buy the good luck charm she'd coverted for her himself, before anyone else noticed her debacle.

She'd glowered up at him before softening at his silence. For a moment she'd thought he'd bought it for himself. Haruhi had felt curiously ashamed of her assumptions. The older host had never jumped to smother her before, so after reevaluation her reaction felt completely unwarranted.

Mori had shocked her when he reached for her hand, gently outstretching it before placing the rough silk packet in her palm, enclosing her fingers around it to let her know it was hers. Then he let go. His hand had been warm against the chill of the air, and before she'd blinked his hands had retreated back into the sleeves of his fine haori.

He hadn't apologized for his impulse, to buy her something or to touch her soft skin.

And she hadn't felt upset by it in the end. Instead she'd sighed, tucking the gift into her obi before walking away to catch up with the others. She walked with a natural grace, taking small steps as the silk slipped up to part perfectly for her embroidered tabi. The twins had braided wisteria into her hair, and petals had fallen to dust her shoulders as a light breeze shifted the air around them.

Her exquisitely plain furisode was devoid of familial mon, and he'd pictured his own crest centered just underneath her tantalizingly bare nape. He looked through the food stalls for strawberry mochi, trying desperately to forget.

* * *

It all happened so fast, in retrospect.

She'd tried to move away, and he'd grabbed at her to hold her in place... knife first, driving the small blade to the hilt under her ribs. He'd gotten what he wanted, she gurgled, rasping horribly before grabbing onto her captors suitcoat in an attempt to remain upright.

The man seemed suprised by his own actions. "Shit.. just.. _shit!_"

Mori was dumbstruck. He couldn't move. Couldn't think. Mitsukuni made a noise of enraged horror beside him, before lunging at the man. The knife clattered to the floor as he withdrew his hand, pulling the steel out of her body with a sickening squelch.

The con, horrified, shoved her out of the way and ran out the door as both Ouran boys abandoned their plans to overtake the robber. Mori watched, stunned, as Haruhi crumpled to the ground with a river of scarlet trailing from her abdomen.

He collapsed onto his knees, reaching out to gather her into his arms. Mind racing, he tore off his white suitcoat, pressing it under her head before ripping off his linen dress shirt to ball up against the fast bleeding wound that had quickly engulfed her pearl colored slipdress. Choking at her sobs of pain, he worked to pry her hands away from her middle before ripping the fabric open, pressing the makeshift towel fast and deep to the puncture wound, teeth grinding in their sockets as she wailed in agony at the touch.

"Mitsukuni. Call Kyoya."

The Haninozuka heir shot out the door. Mori wished him speed. The older boy would have little patience with the two men once he caught up with them. And he would, of that he was entirely certain.

"Oh my God," Nasuti's horrified mutterings broke his battered concentrations as he breathed deeply to steady himself. "What can I do, to help!"

"Stay calm and keep your child safe." Mori didn't bother to turn around to address her, entirely focused on Haruhi's listing eyes as she processed the pain coursing through her torso. "Sit outside and wait to direct the ambulance once it comes, if you can manage."

"Right. Right, I can do that." Nasuti heaved herself up, walking unsteadily to the door, looking back at the grisly scene only once before pitching herself down on the pavement in front of the door.

Inside, Mori bit the inside of his cheek as she latched onto the front of his undershirt, pulling him closer in her panic. He willed himself to be calm, to not allow her to see the extent of his fear for her life.

"Mori.. Mori I can't breath.. I can't-"

"Ssshhh..." He shifted his hold on the now sopping cloth, his hands nearly covering the entire expanse of her stomach as he pressed down with extra force to staunch the bleeding. She gasped in pain, fingers clenching against his muscles through his remaining top, and he allowed himself to flinch with her. "Don't speak. Breath deeply. Focus on me."

And she did. She focused on the expressive torment that was painted across his normally blank face, at the pain that flitted across his features at her every ragged intake of breath. At the little emotions she'd never noticed in his window like eyes. The tremble in his iron wrought arms as he worked to keep her alive. How hadn't she seen that before?

"Senpai..."

She reached up to press a strangely heavy hand to his face, frowning as she smeared blood onto his lightly tanned skin, her own stark white against it's slightly darker pallor and macabre in contrast to the thick smear of red that clung to her flesh. The searing pain had receded, leaving her cold and numb. Adrenaline doing what it could.

"Haruhi..." The gentle giant paused, unsurprisingly, groping for words that he was unused to reaching for.

She smiled for his benefit, watching his eyes anxiously lock onto her own and his adams apple bob with a hesitant swallow.

"The ambulance will be here soon, ne?" Kyoya wouldn't hesitate to flex his strings in a life or death situation. It would be the employees future lives on the line if they didn't arrive soon. "It doesn't really hurt that badly anymore."

Mori's heart dropped into his stomach. Her blood was warm and sticky on his hands, and all he could think about was that he'd never kissed her.

"Haruhi." She looked into his eyes. Tears had dried on her cheeks, and her brown orbs were still wide and wet with pain. "Takashi. Just Takashi."

"But only Hani-"

"Ah."

His face was a measure of stone, grey eyes glinting out of his carefully schooled features in an expression she'd come to look for behind the mask. She felt cold.

"Takashi..." The name felt warm on her tongue.

"Ah." The blood welled through the sodden shirt and past his fingers. He wanted to scream.

* * *

The set up was another historical theme, once again masquerading as feudal lords. This time the weather had prevented an outdoor backdrop, so they'd instead gone more formal with their elaborate costumes. Hani had been dressed up like a little royal prince, complete with long flowing hakama and sokutai. He could have passed for a tiny Nobunaga at court. Haruhi, of course, had been forced – nearly kicking and screaming – into a junihitoe the imperial princess herself would have been jealous of. The twelve layers of kimono weighed her down so much that she was unable to move, and thus unable to disrobe into male attire, much to the twins satisfaction. She had been ensconced on a court platform with Hani and Mori, Mori playing as the arrow wielding general at arms, his own dark court kimono completed by the bow and quiver strung to his back.

Once again, Mori found himself entranced at the sight of her in traditional clothing. Her tiny body was engulfed by luxurious silk, and his fingers twitched to steady her every time she moved for fear of her toppling off their perch from the sheer weight of her own clothing. Or to lighten her load. Mitsukuni kept shoveling down the wagashi tea cakes, purposefully ignoring her as she slowly collapsed under the burden of her costume, and Mori couldn't stand fighting his instincts any longer. He took a cloth napkin, moving in to wipe soy starch from Hani's ever moving mouth, then moved in between Haruhi's regulars.

"Haruhi."

He shifted to kneel before her, careful not to step onto flowing rich silk of her kimono, and he parted the fabric to shift so that he could kneel in between it's folds to tower over the small woman. Ignoring her confused look, he tilted her face up for appraisal. The twins had applied a lighter approximation of court makeup, and so he took extra care as he gently patted away the sweat from her brow. The customers swooned, and something inside Mori's chest lurched at the sight of her lips dropping open from the shock. Her breathing sped up, and his own heart raced at her reaction to his actions. Taking his time, he moved back, surreptitiously folding the napkin to tuck into his sleeve. Brown eyes widened then locked with his own slate grey. Mori sat back down, moving to make Haruhi the best tea Japan had to offer.

* * *

"Listening?" Her voice sounded tired.

"Ah."

His voice trembled, fingers white as he fought to keep her tied to him and the plane he was anchored to. He was honor bound to follow her.

"I love you." She spoke as if she was very far away. His heart soared and plummeted simultaneously.

Her brilliant chocolate eyes were distant, half lidded. He'd prayed for this moment. _But not like this. God, not like this._

"I love you as well."

She was beautiful. Her hair was spread out on the tile floor, crowning her like a wreath of dark silk. Lips, red and perfect begged to be kissed, and he wanted to give in to his wild instincts and sample their taste. She was his, _his his his _for the taking. He wanted to brand himself so far into her soul that she'd never be the same.

Instead he sighed, raggedly, as he pressed his mouth to her brow; praying for the sirens to grow louder, willing them faster to their patient and his own faltering heart.

"Koi," he whispered against her soft skin, allowing himself the small comfort of living out an idle wish as she lay expiring with every heartbeat, caressing her with his lips as best he could. She was so small in his arms, so lovely, and he'd folded himself to reach the rest of her. He loved her the more for it. He'd long reconciled himself to the fact that he was capable of serving two masters, and Hani had been more than happy to point out that Haruhi would make an excellent Morinozuka bride. Strong women were favored for men of his family. He'd bided his time. He would have sought her after they met again in the pre-law program he attended. Like him, she would only be fit to attend the best schools. He'd always wanted to be lawyer.

So many wasted hours.

"Takashi..." her breath had turned his given name into a bitter pledge, one that he would exact upon in the near future.

It was wrong, all wrong.

* * *

The years had passed in their succession, and the two eldest members of the host club had graduated. With many seasons before he had to take on his responsibilities as family head, Mori had gone on to work towards his undergraduate in law, something he'd planned on pursuing from his first semester at Ouran. It had shocked many of his classmates, but the few who actually knew him were little surprised by his interest. Even his father had encouraged the endeavor, as a background in law was always helpful in the business world. The responsibility was still light on his shoulders. The world was very bright indeed.

Hani, pursuing a culinary arts degree at a college across town from his own, regularly dragged him back to the host club for catching up. Hani had missed the pageantry, and his fawning regulars, as well as the ability to unwind from the pressures of their daily grind with indulgence. And Mori had missed Haruhi.

She seemed to grow so beautiful that it was almost incrementally more painful every time they walked in through the music room doors. How any of the women of Ouran thought Haruhi in her third year was male went completely beyond his comprehension, though with some of her diligent regulars he was almost certain they were aware of her gender status but merely didn't care.

One night he'd caught her hunched over in the prep room, gasping for air, only to find out that she'd been binding her now not so insubstantial breasts to continue the facade. He'd had a very short and threatening conversation with Kyoya, to seemingly little avail. The next visit was during an outdoor garden viewing, and he knew there would be trouble when they were poured into tight fitting Victorian suits. When Haruhi slipped off to get more tea from the storage room for the guests, he'd followed.

She sat on a low couch, back arched as she contorted to relieve the strain on her struggling diaphragm from the bandages that lay beneath the close cut wool waistcoat.

"Haruhi." What to say?

She froze. His fingers itched to unbutton the clothing, to tear the offending torture device that lay beneath it off her skin so that she could breath properly as any human being had the right to. He felt.. the need to protect. It all suddenly clicked into place.

"It's okay Mori-sempai. They're just a little too tight today." She stood up, a light blush misting her cheeks, scurrying off with a tray in the direction of the storeroom. "I'll hurry with the tea."

His hands clenched and he bit the inside of his cheek in rage, turning to walk back out the door without her.

* * *

The sirens grew steadily louder, and he thanked all that was holy when the men and their equipment burst in through the door.

"You can let go, sir."

He felt himself gently steered away as a man took him to the side, making way for the paramedics to take over. He was asked his name, how long they'd been waiting, if he knew about any health conditions they should be aware of.

All he knew was that she was deathly afraid of thunderstorms.

He dialed up Kyoya on a borrowed cellphone, patching him through to the nearest paramedic who began frantically inserting IVs into her hand after a few quick questions. The Ootrori had to have a file on on her medical records. He felt curiously guilty at the thought of his lack of knowledge, setting aside his bottomless culpability in the rest of the days events.

"Let's get you cleaned up, Morinozuka-san."

Another paramedic had him hold out his hands, pouring antiseptic over them, and he watched in morbid fascination as her blood dripped off of his hands in tiny rivulets from his fingertips. Afterwards he was handed a towel as it was explained to him that there was a helicopter waiting for them on the roof of the building across the street, and that they were going to air lift Haruhi to the nearest hospital. Kyoya had his medical team prepping an operating room that would be waiting for them. The best surgeons, the best care with a speed that Kyoya would be evaluating by the minute.

He became distracted midway through the paramedics explanation as they began to cut away her clothing to reveal the true extent of the wound. Fingernails dug into skin as he blinked away the shout welling in his throat. If Hani hadn't already caught up to the man, God help the bastard when the first Morinozuka son tracked him down.

For now, however, he had infinitely more important things to worry about. It seemed like an eternity, but barely a few minutes duration and she was prepped for transport. They gingerly rolled her out of the confectionery, then across a street that had been blocked off from traffic and up the lift of the building across the way. His hand had been latched onto the railing of the gurney the entire way, until the wind was whipping around them as they lifted her up past the rooftop steps and onto the tarmac.

A man wearing ear protection moved from his station near the cockpit to grab his arm, and Mori had no intention of letting go. The gurney ground to halt.

"I'm sorry sir, only family members can accompany a patient. It's hospital policy."

Damn Kyoya's inattentiveness.

The oxygen mask strapped to her face stifled any speech, but he was stationed so that he could see her reaction as he locked eyes with hers from the short distance between them in order to communicate everything in his heart without words. The fire. The resolve. The intent.

"She's my _fiancé_. Now let me pass."

Haruhi's eyes widened and Mori's own gleamed with steel when the man before him flinched at his mistake. He was a Morinozuka. They were between him and his precious one. The pilot hesitated, and Mori couldn't restrain himself any longer.

"Move. _Now._"

The crew chief steeped aside as they lifted her into the cabin. Mori stepped into the helicopter.

His hand engulfed her own, tiny fingers trembling in his grasp as he moved to take the arm not commandeered by the medic as they hooked her up to frightening looking machines and re-bagged her IVs. And then, as she curled her smooth skin into his kendo roughened palm, the helicopter began to warm up it's blades. Haruhi's hand clenched against his own, the tones tracking her heart rate sky rocketing as the rotation began to shake the cabin. He leaned in to speak into her ear as he returned the pressure against her fingers, gently squeezing them to comfort.

"Haruhi-koi."

She stilled, hand relaxing.

"From this moment on, with all of my life... I will keep you safe."

Their hands intertwined. The helicopter took flight.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Can't tell if this is going to be a one shot or a short series, I'll have to see. It's been swirling around in my head for a while, and I've taken several months of writing and re-writing to get this all down. Please don't expect it to be quickly updated if I do turn this into an ongoing series.

**Cultural Notes and Translations: **

_One thousand yen_ (or more correctly, 'en' , as the 'ye' character no longer exists in Japanese language) is worth a little over ten American dollars give or take, depending on the fluctuating exchange rate. Currently the yen is relatively strong, so it rests at around $12 USD at the time of me writing this. Hopefully that helps give a little perspective if you're not on the up with the financial cultural translation.

_Shinai_ as the word for a type of practice sword used in Kendo and other martial arts, and although most of the parts are leather or bamboo, Mori is replacing the tsuru (string) down the center of the shinai that holds the tsukagawa (leather handle) and other parts together. It's generally made of nylon and other durable materials depending on the makers/practitioners preference.

_Michelin stars_ are a renowned form of restaurant critique, and imply the best of the best when it comes to cuisine. Only 81 restaurants in the entire world have a three Michelin star rating.

_Koban_ is the Japanese term for police box, it's basically a local police station and the smallest group unit in the Japanese police force. They're in charge of community policing.

_Till_ is slang for cash register or cash drawer.

_Onamori_ are Shinto good luck charms, sold at temples and other places.

_Obi_ is the long fabric belt that ties around the middle when wearing a kimono.

_Haori_ is the coat worn with kimono, Mori is wearing montsuki formal wear.

_Tabi_ are the traditional split socks worn with kimono/with sandals.

_Furisode_ is the long sleeved kimono reserved for unmarried women.

_Mon_ is the Japanese form of family crests.

_Mochi_ is a traditional rice cake.

_Koi_ is an endearment.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Safe

Series: Ouran High School Host Club  
Pairing: Mori/Haruhi  
Rating: M (adult content, violence)  
Summary: Mori comes to a realization much too quickly, but entirely too late. All that's left is to piece together the aftermath and reassure her that she's...

Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club, nor any of the innumerable characters and content therein. I am making no profit from this jumble of words.

**..Safe : Chapter 2..**

Mori had truly thought she'd left him behind. Her vital signs had begun to flag as they'd flown towards the hospital, and after their arrival they'd raced through the hallways, running full speed as much as they could while pushing her gurney ahead of them. He'd been shoved out of the operating theater and told to go to a waiting room, but instead he'd lingered outside the doors in a desperate attempt to know what was happening to her outside his care.

As he waited, the other hosts had arrived at the hospital. He known by their shouts that echoed down the hallway, and the look on Kyoya's face as he speedily walked towards him after pushing past his personal guards that blocked the entrance to corridor from the room containing the loud men. The stony faced Ootori merely nodded to him before pushing the doors open, revealing the drifting sounds of warning klaxons before they slammed shut as the older man paced outside the cordoned off operating room. After Kyoya had slipped inside, he'd heard yelling.

Dangerous words. Words that had him calculating the distance to the nearest temple or dojo and how fast he could have his immaculately sharpened tanto driven over to him from home. Words that had him reciting the death poetry of shamed samurai in his head. The guilt of his actions, his lack of response when she had been thrown into danger, finally descended upon him like the weight of an avalanche on his shoulders.

He'd clutched at the wall, legs sagging under the burden of it all.

* * *

She could actually put a finger on the first time she'd realized that Mori was... well, Mori. It was about the same time that she'd began to slowly understand how he operated emotionally. Separated from Hani, whom he was obviously overly concerned for to the detriment of his own safety, he had been all too easy to disassemble. It had become immediately evident that the teen relied on his childlike cousin's companionship as much for day to day normalcy in as much as Hani did Mori's servitude. It was give and take.

And when she'd followed Mori into the forest as he chased after his instincts, she began to understand why he'd been cast into the role he had been in the host club as well. At first it just hadn't made any sense. What was so wild about Mori? In many respects he was an example of the perfect Japanese male, honor driven and spare with his meaningful speech. Then she'd thought it had something to do with his family background, the servile status of his clan in comparison to the more noble lines that graced the halls of Ouran with their presence. In the end, it seemed to be bit of many different qualities including his instinctual physical prowess as well as his family ties.

When he'd first spoken her name - and _just_ her name _without_ any honorifics - in low rumbling tones so deep that she could actually feel vibrating out from his chest as he'd held her, she'd been just a little bit pleased. And later on when they were attacked by men with machine guns and he'd still refused to let her go from his arms, her heart had raced in her chest at his decision to protect her against such odds. It was the first time she'd begun to see past the mask he so readily accepted as his lot in life. It had only been the beginning.

* * *

An hour passed by. Then two. Eventually he'd lost track, sitting down on the hard tiled floor, back against the eerily white wall. He'd stared up into the fluorescent lighting as if it had the answers to his questions. He prayed, meditating as sutras floated through his string of consciousness. He waited.

Kyoya finally emerged carrying a medical chart, shirt askew under his jacket as he'd obviously unbuttoned the collar for comfort. His face was grim. Mori gripped the tile under his hands, willing him to give only good news.

It wasn't.

"She's made it through. But the knife penetrated several of her major organs; it punctured a lung, her liver and opened up a small portion of her large intestine. Her recovery will be slow.. and because of the perforation of her intestines she'll be prone to secondary infection. There's a relatively good chance that she could become severely ill from an internal infection because of it."

He paused, pushing his glasses up by the bridge as he flipped over some paperwork on the chart, obviously buying himself some time as he collected himself emotionally. It was odd to see the normally cold man so disconcerted.

"She'll also be in a great deal of pain. It's.. it's not an ideal area to have disturbed surgically and it will be debilitating while she heals. Someone will have to monitor her once she's released from the hospital to keep her from overexerting herself or pulling her stitches. It's.. Haruhi."

Mori closed his eyes, allowing the information to settle through his filters, before he slowly stood up to face Kyoya. Even sitting down as he was before he towered over the younger man but his current position of standing straight and so close to the other man on purpose it was nearly a threatening maneuver, eyes hard and face stoney as ever. He knew his expression was intimidating; it was meant to be intimidating. It was something he'd perfected over the years. Kyoya flinched.

"She'll stay with me. I'm sure her father will allow me to oversee her care after I speak with him."

Kyoya swallowed, nodding.

"Is he here now?"

"He's in the waiting room with the others." Kyoya flipped the chart shut, glasses shading his eyes as he straightened his spine. "So, Mori-senpai."

The kendoist merely looked him in the eyes as a response.

"The paramedics report tells me she was admitted as your fiancé." He received no response to the non-question. "When, before or after she was stabbed, did you have the time to pop the question?"

It was a cruel question to bate him with, but Kyoya had never been accused of being a soft touch. It had been an infuriating detail on an already horrible series of events that had disturbed his planning for the rest of the year if not his entire life, and he wasn't inclined to let it go.

He'd held Mori's gaze, and he watched something come over his eyes as he finished his sentence that he'd seen only a handful of times over the years. And it made him take a step back.

"Your cellphone. Kyoya."

The third Ootori son handed the man his cellphone, standing back to appraise the operating room doors. Even he knew when to make a tactical retreat.

* * *

She'd known he cared, or at least, truly felt that she was his friend. Mori had a tendency to ignore his surroundings if they were unimportant to his worldview, people included. It was why the girls who designated Mori didn't expect conversation, their heads were filled with it already. He was a blank slate for them to project their fantasies onto. Half the time he seemed to let the conversation float over him, barely even nodding to let them know he was listening, entirely focused on Hani or the others.

It was the little things.

He'd pick up the cups for her at the end of the day, and one day she came in to find that an entire shelf in the storeroom had been rearranged so that the heaviest tea items were moved to lower shelves. Just the day before she'd nearly fallen off a step-stool under the weight of an antique marble tray, something all the hosts had fussed over but she'd brushed off easily enough. She'd had her suspicions, until she noticed him hovering by the door, gauging her height against the cabinets of the tall sideboard before he'd simply turned and walked away.

Mori always saved the choicest bits of food for her. He seemed to always pick up on her likes and dislikes; he'd been the first to realize her small obsession with good food and capitalize on it. But he was also generous in that respect. At every picnic or banquet she inevitably found plates full of her favorite foods at her fingertips, and no one but Mori to look to for the thoughtful care to her palate.

Of all the hosts, he seemed to be the only one who did things selflessly for her. There was no benefit to his actions, no strings attached. His simple regard was something that Haruhi truly treasured on days when she felt like a lamb amongst wolves.

As usual, she had been blamed for monetary loss simply by being present when the perpetual whirlwind of trouble that was the twins decided to harass their fearful leader. Haruhi could only glare at Kyoya, the light glinting off his glasses taking nothing away from his scheming aura as he quickly recorded the increase in her debt. The twins had wrapped themselves around her, disturbing Tamaki away from his designees, who then began to play tug of war between all three of them with Haruhi as the rope. It was infuriating. She'd been shouting at them for a good two minutes, and now she was starting to get a little more than annoyed at the situation than usual.

"For the last time, I said let _go_!"

She was completely ignored, all three men too caught up in their banter with little concern as to their stretching of her limbs. She'd dug into the floor, trying to leverage her way out from between them, but it was no use. Kaoru held fast to one arm, Hikaru to the other, and Tamaki was yanking painfully against her middle as his fingers dug into her stomach for purchase. Hikaru twisted to have both hands around her bicep, and as he went to grip her more tightly his hands wrenched her flesh in opposite directions. She gulped in a breath, tears nearly welling up as Tamaki tried to rip those same fingers off of her, only worsening the painful burning sensation. She'd had _enough_.

"_Mori-senpai!_"

Suddenly they were shoved back, or she was pulled forward, she wasn't sure which. And when she blinked, she found herself gently being set down on her own two feet, well away from the three boys who had been shocked into silence by the hosts actions.

"Umm, Mori-senpai, you didn't need to go so far away." It was Tamaki who spoke up first, oblivious to the sharp expression that Haruhi saw on his face as he turned away from her, slowly letting his hands fall away from her sides.

"You were hurting her."

Tamaki gaped at him after the unexpected comment, then stumbled away to hunch over his knees in a corner in obvious misery. The twins rolled their eyes, moving to sit back down by themselves.

Haruhi let out a sigh of relief. When Mori turned back to her, although it was impossible to tell for sure from his blank expression, she somehow felt frustration rolling off of him in waves as she studied the tense muscles around his eyes. She rolled her shoulder experimentally, rubbing at the bruised skin underneath the thick jacket. Bending over, she began to pick up the shards of the expensive tea cup and saucer she'd dropped after the twins had manhandled her while she was trying to clean up, careful of the sharp edges of the porcelain. She winced as she rose, side protesting against the straining skin where Tamaki had clawed at her. Slightly more damage than usual, but not unexpected.

"Haruhi." Her name, just her name in that deep voice he shouldn't have had at their age. She swallowed, tilting her head up to meet his seemingly concerned grey eyes from their set a fair distance above her. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. Thank you, Mori-senpai."

Then he merely nodded, moving to fetch a broom and dustpan. Mori confused her, with his contradictory actions and manners that didn't match his station in life. But Haruhi was nevertheless glad that when the wolves pounced, she knew she could always call on him to help.

* * *

There was blowback, as he knew there would be. Hikaru had stormed out of the hospital, disappearing for several hours, and Tamaki had been inconsolable. The blond Frenchman had raged at Mori, shouting his disapproval before dissolving into a genuine fit of tears that did nothing to sway Mori's resolve. It had taken Hani, of all people, to shut him up.

"You _will_ sit down and you _will_ listen to what I have to say." Mitsukuni Haninozuka could be a frightening creature if he wanted to be, and the look on his petite features did little to inspire Tamaki to do anything but sit down so better to cower towards the back of the somewhat frayed looking waiting room couch. It matched all of their tempers after five hours of surgery and over an hour of arguing amongst themselves about her postoperative care.

"My cousin, the _only_ one out of us responsible enough - just admit it to yourselves - to take care of her, has already hired a staff of nurses and a waiting physician to help when he isn't able to. Do not tell me that this man," here he pointed at Mori, standing motionless in the corner throughout the entire ordeal, "Who didn't shed _a tear_ while she was bleeding out, is less qualified than the person who throws a tantrum at realizing he's been left behind romantically. _Grow up_ Tamaki. This isn't about _you_."

Kaoru had dissolved into laughter at the Suoh heirs dismayed expression, immediately followed by his shocked looking brother, breaking the tension that filled the air as the rest of the room suddenly relaxed at the ultimatum. Ranka was absent, having been the first to be admitted to the ICU unit that housed the host club princess. They were all waiting their turns, if impatiently.

"Mori-senpai..." Tamaki looked up from his lap, where his gaze had been situated for the few tense minutes of silence before Hani had lost his composure. "If you don't take care of her properly, I'll-"

"I won't allow any harm to come to her."

"This time." Added on Hikaru, who still hadn't decided to forgive the older man his transgressions. Tension filled the room again, this time nearly worse than the cacophonous yelling before.

Ranka stepped into the room, disheveled and swollen eyed. "Morinozuka-san."

Mori straightened, bowing towards Haruhi's father in honorable deference.

"She's asking for you."

* * *

There were of course small instances when her own heart was moved by his actions. She'd hated herself at those times. She wasn't free to allow herself to be attracted to any of the host club, but especially her seniors. They were stars very far beyond her reach, and she told herself time and time again it was an exercise in futility to look at any of them as anything in relation to her. Haruhi had thought that they'd eventually tire of her novelty and that would be the end of her small peek into their world. Sometimes, though, she'd slip.

Like every time she found Mori lurking around corners between her classes. He'd sniff out the dissent before she even saw it coming. Not every male at Ouran was as forgiving of the hosts entertaining their women as Tohru-san had been.

"Stupid motherless freak. Go back to where you belong."

That had actually _hurt_. Surprisingly, she recognized him; one Shincaru Mishimoto, engaged to one of her newer customers, a Miss Akane Hayate. The slight against her pedigree hadn't bothered her in the least, she was long past caring what rich people thought of 'commoners' such as herself. However, the remark about her parentage did smart. It was something she'd heard several times over the years though, and she let the words roll off her back. Sighing, she moved to step around the irate young man. She couldn't afford to be late for class.

She didn't even notice his fist coming towards her face until Mori had already caught it with his own. The sound of her senpai's briefcase hitting the floor, books and pens clattering across the hallway as it fell open, was nearly deafening in the silence left after the loud smack of his intercepting palm to the Mishimoto's fist. He shrugged Shincaru out of his grip fluidly, moving to pin the other boy by his shirt up against the wall with a speed that left her breathless.

"Leave Haruhi alone."

He let go. Mishimoto fled as if demons were licking at his heels, never to bother her again. Mori tilted his head towards her in his version of a bow, humming slightly before moving to pick up his things. She dropped to her knees, scrambling to help if not to collect her own scattered emotions. Their hands met as they both reached for the same book, and she had to stop herself from gasping at the shock of his touch. He paused, waiting for her to hand him the book, taking it from her with careful hands as they both stood up.

"Thank you Mori-senpai." She bowed deeply as he nodded again then walked away, leaving her reeling with tremors she didn't fully understand.

* * *

She was so white against the sheets, her dark hair matted back from her brow, that he thought she'd be lost amongst them if a pillow went astray. He hesitated in the doorway, stopping to stare at her from a distance as he wondered what to say. In the end, Haruhi ended up crooking a finger at him to break the silence.

"Help me get this mask off." He hesitated once again, looking towards the nurse who'd been attending her in askance.

"She should be fine for a few minutes. It _is _difficult to hear her with it on." The older looking nurse shrugged, leaning in to help Mori situate her as they eased the elastic from her face. "If you need me, I'll be right around the corner." The woman excused herself, bowing before leaving the two leave to speak in privacy.

"How are you feeling?" It was such an inadequate question that he nearly stood up and left for shame.

"Much better, thank you, Mori-senpai."

Oh God. What if?

"Takashi." He looked at her more fully, gauging her reaction.

"Right." She blushed, and something welled up within him for courage.

"Haruhi." He looked straight into her eyes, with a stare so unnervingly certain that Haruhi couldn't help be drawn into his clear grey gaze. Then his face dropped to stare at the floor as if he wished it would swallow him whole.

"Yes, Takashi?" She smiled slightly at his pause for her prompt.

"Can you forgive me?" Mori's face was shuttered, as if even giving voice to his guilt was painful. Haruhi's heart clenched at the sight of his self loathing. The man truly blamed himself for her wounds.

"I put myself in that situation, and I knew what might happen. There isn't anything to forgive."

He lifted his head to stare into her eyes once again, before shaking his head, eyes closed. His hands dropped lifelessly from the chair as he leaned back. "I was distracted."

"It's not your fault." Her voice was light, but laced with steel as his eyes, just as iced, shot up to meet hers with a snap.

"My eyes were on Hani. They should have been on you." His already deep pitch was laced with gravel, body stiffening. "I _swore_ to myself you would never come to harm under my care." Once she'd been tossed off a cliff, or covered in paint, and then their friend had _seen_.. but that didn't really count for much by comparison however much he'd wanted to bash the vision out of the other mans skull.

Haruhi's breath caught, her hand reaching out to him as his hands intercepted hers without leaving her gaze.

"I'm alive because of you, Takashi." His fingers trembled around her own. "We're all aware that you have certain responsibilities."

"Let me rectify that."

Haruhi looked confused, and he steeled himself for what was to come.

"Will you do me the honor of joining my family?" Mori paused, before drawing a deep breath to continue. "Promise to stay by my side, always." He'd slipped out of the chair to kneel next to the bed, still towering over her as he held her hand in his now tight grip. His entire body had tensed, and Haruhi could practically feel the terror radiating off of his form. It was much like the stillness before he'd pounced on Hani at the thought of a cavity, thought Haruhi somewhat bemusedly.

"I thought we were already engaged." Haruhi deadpanned her mirthful retort, causing Mori to dip in lower on the bed in rebuttal. She fought back laughter at his half begrudgingly penitent expression.

"Hn."

"I thought as much."

"Haruhi," he grunted.

"Takashi," she teased back.

"Marry me, Haruhi." His lips hovered over her own, teasing her without words as she sighed against his mouth. One hand still remained gripped against hers, his other pinned next to her on the pillow as his body covered her own with ease. She could feel his restraint in every muscle as his chest rippled against her own, body taught as he waited for her response.

She smiled. "Yes."

She felt his entire body relax as her own blood sped up at the sight of his soft smile. Carefully, mindful of her infirmity, his head drew close to hers. They met, a simple brush of skin against skin even as Haruhi's lips parted and Mori's heart raced in his chest. Wishing otherwise, he withdrew before the kiss turned heated, giving her a smile so serene that her breath caught. He leaned in, dragging his lips against hers once more before moving to place the oxygen mask back to her slowly waning countenance. Her breath had become labored, and Mori wouldn't take any chances even as her brow wrinkled at his actions.

Haruhi's hair was even worse off than it had been before, much to Mori's displeasure. He thought to himself to ask the nurse if he could wash it for her. Tender hands brushed her bangs back behind an ear, moving to straighten the fly-away strands as she fought against the pain medication that began to slowly course through her veins. The dose had come sooner than Mori thought possible, but a quick glance to the clock showed that he'd lost track of everything outside of their conversation, with good reason. He sighed.

"Go to sleep."

"Will you stay here with me?" Her eyes were half mast, her grip slackening as he watched her daze into a pain medication induced lull. He looked down at his shirt, covered in her blood, and pushed back against the shame and guilt that still engulfed his soul. He'd have clothes brought from home so he could change later, after the others had left and she was fully asleep.

"Ah."

* * *

Sometimes it wasn't entirely Mori's actions that tumbled them into awkward moments.

It was just one of those days where Mori was upset by something Hani had done, and his concentration was paying the price for it. Earlier in the day he'd made the mistake of overhearing his charges plans for university, which started him thinking about what he would do in the future at university. It was always very simple to divine when the older boy was ill at ease, as everything he touched seemed to suffer from his chronic absentmindedness.

They were dressed to match their hobbies, and so he sat cross legged outside in his hakama complete with bogu, his helmet beside him. His hands were awkwardly cradling a cup of tea that one of his designations had handed to him while he still wore his kote guards, and as he brought the cup to his lips the boiling water spilled onto his uncovered feet. He slipped, letting out an irritated hiss at the contact.

Hani wailed, burying his face in his bunny at his reaction, drawing the rest of the clubs attention immediately.

"Oh!" Haruhi, toting a tray nearby, set it down to rush over with a tea towel. "Are you alright?" She began to dab at his reddened ankle, unknowingly pushing up the stiff fabric of his hakama further up his leg to better see the slight burn. Mori stiffened, breathing in deeply as her hands gently wiped at his aching skin. It was at that exact moment that it occurred to him that he hadn't remembered to wear any fundoshi.

The shock of the inappropriateness of that thought thought combined with Haruhi's ministrations sent his cup tumbling out of his grip entirely, splashing to land directly in his lap. He nearly hyperventilated, body listing off to one side as she knelt before him, towel in hand. Oh _God_. He froze entirely, not knowing whether to weep tears of pain or shame. All prior preoccupation with Hani's future planning melted away in a glorious, if horrifyingly embarrassing moment.

He choked, attempting to allay the distress in her face. "Ah."

Haruhi sat, poised, with the towel in one hand with a rather curious look in her eyes as she gripped the rough fabric of his hakama. One of the girls tittered. Then Hani, wiping away his crocodile tears, cleared his throat loudly. The young woman dressed as a male cook let go of his pantleg, and suddenly Mori could breath again.

"You know, Takashi, I think that my karate uniform is a little hot today. Maybe I'll take off my undershirt!" The women who surrounded him swooned at the completely random interjection, and Hani smiled cutely at the both of them as Haruhi and Mori twitched in near unison. "Lets go get some ointment and fix your leg up while I change, ne?"

Hani walked him to the changing room, pinning him with an amused grin. "What was all that about?"

Mori shook, stuttering as never before. "Haruhi.. towel... no fundoshi.."

Hani burst into laughter, eventually doubling over so hard that he cried tears of mirth, and the kendoist could only sigh in response. Turning away, Mori slowly composed himself as he dug through his set of drawers for a pair of boxers to set his mind at ease.

* * *

True to form, Kyoya had been entirely correct. The next day, much to the dismay of her team of physicians, Haruhi became violently ill. Theoretically it was an easily treatable infection, eradicated with a simple course of antibiotics, but in her weakened state from the surgery her health would be slow in recovering. Throughout the day and then the night she remained heavily sedated, which only gave him leave to attend matters which had been otherwise left to his cousin.

"Mitsukuni." He sat where had for the past forty-eight hours, hunched over her bed in a chair refusing to leave for food or hellfire. The nurses had taken pity on him, installing a cot that barely accommodated his tall form.

Hani sniffled, moving to situate Usa-chan further under the sheets within Haruhi's grasp.

"Just tell me." The giant of a man was stock still, frame rigid as he waited for confirmation.

"I caught the one with the bag of cash first. He's... alive." The implications were obvious. "The other is being taken care of by Kasanoda's people."

Mori blinked, turning to look at his cousin for confirmation. The older boy shrugged, eyes hard before he smoothed the sheets on her still body with care. It wasn't entirely unexpected, but Mori was still taken aback by his cousins lack of restraint. He turned an eye down on his brother at heart, waiting for further explanation. Hani turned the question back on him instead.

"What would you have done, Takashi?"

Steel eyes focused on a distant horizon, hardening to a sharpened point that Hani had seen many times in many areas of the world during military excursions. His gentle friend transforming into a well honed blade.

"The same."

Mori lifted her hand, pressing it against his lips before moving to take the food that Hani had brought for his lunch that day.

"What are you going to tell her?"

The taller boy paused, shaking his head slightly. It was a long moment before he gathered his thoughts enough to give an answer to the troubling question.

"What she needs to know." In other words, not a damn thing. Hani shifted as he felt the air in the room shift, and he trained his eyes on his cousins bleak expression. "I'll never forgive myself if.."

"Don't even think it."

Mori wasn't the only person who had been devastated by her state of health.

* * *

After the incident with Arai at Misuzu's pension she'd been shocked into being more attentive to the feelings of the men who surrounded her. Haruhi had been completely oblivious to anyone with romantic intentions towards her, it had just never occurred to her that anyone would think such thoughts towards her in the first place. It was entirely beyond her experience.

So she'd slowly been attempting to gauge not only her own feelings on such matters, but reaching out with her rather paltry observation skills to try and evaluate her friendships with the men currently in her life. It was confusing and made her paranoid of every little thing her friends did for her. Not that she didn't already get angry at their self important interventions, but the new and slightly more driven reasoning that she now projected onto every instance in terms of motivation made their actions all the more terrifying.

And frustrating. The situation seemed to bleed into every facet of her life, including her one escape: academia. She was taking a European literature class, and they were doing a unit on romantic poetry. It was exactly the type of material she really didn't need to be dwelling on for the time being. She felt like one gigantic ball of emotions waiting to burst, and she'd had to sit through several class periods trying desperately to calm her burning cheeks at reading the flowery prose they'd been assigned. The twins had been merciless in their teasing, which hadn't helped at all.

Now she was having to do her own research on the subject outside of class, and she entered the library with all the exuberance of a patient gearing ones self up for a tooth extraction. She had to pick three poems that hadn't been featured in their class material to present in a paper later on in the week, and despite her trepidation, she wanted to finish the project sooner rather than later. So that was how she found herself teetering on a ladder, attempting to reach one of the books she'd decided to check out after a bit of research.

It was just beyond her reach, and she shakily let go of one of the rails to lean further out to brush it's spine with her fingertips. Her stomach dropped to the floor as she felt the rig lurch, and she very nearly shrieked when a large hand against her back steadied her from falling.

"Maybe try this one instead." The voice was too deep to be anyone but him.

He reached over her head, body pressing her own into the bookshelf, her heart racing at the unexpected contact. Mori thumbed across the titles before drawing one out of the stacks to shove into a pocket before moving back to pluck her from her perch, settling her back onto solid ground. Reaching out, he pressed the retrieved book into her hands, locking eyes with hers in an expression that Haruhi was completely unable to categorize from memory.

"Thank you."

She looked down at the book, quickly reading it's title. It wasn't familiar to her memory from class discussions, but the author was.

Mori nodded without saying a word, moving back with another book in hand to a table across from her own in the large library, sitting back down next to Hani. She watched, mystified, as he pretended to read his book. Haruhi knew he was pretending because he held himself upright, hands outstretched instead of hunching over to devour the text like he normally did.

She opened the book aimlessly, beginning at a passage midway through the compilations offerings. It's sensuality nearly jumped off the page. Reading on, Haruhi felt a blush begin to flame from the rather descriptive language, and she peaked over the book to Mori's table. His eyes were decidedly not on the volume he held, but rather locked onto her slowly reddening throat where her suffocating tie had been jostled by her fingers earlier in the hour. Something began to flicker in his eyes as her breathing sped up, and as if he felt her questioning eyes on him without ever looking up to her face, his gaze suddenly snapped back to his book so quickly that she thought she'd been imagining the entire exchange.

And then Haruhi began to wonder.

* * *

"Mori!"

He threw himself violently out of the chair, whipping around to look for the threat; the room was empty.

"_Takashi!_"

She wailed thinly against protesting lungs, reaching out towards him and then he realized, stumbling forward to take her hand into a palm as he grasped her cheek with the other. She stared back at him from sleep bruised eyes in a haze, lost in herself.

"I'm here."

She frowned, gulping air dangerously from beneath her oxygen mask as he shook with painful rage at the entire situation. He wanted to crawl into the bed with her, wrap himself around her so she could know that he wouldn't ever leave but he was too afraid of dislodging something important from her skin. Instead, he leaned in, pressing his forehead to her own so all she could see was him.

"Haruhi-koi," her hand tightened in his own, eyes fixing onto his own. "I'm here. I'm right here."

"They took me away." His throat tightened. "I didn't want to go," tears began to drip down her face and in his sleepy discomposure he couldn't step himself from letting the words slip out.

"I won't let you go." He shuddered, unwilling to cave. He hadn't truly cried since he was a boy, and her continued survival wasn't supposed to be an event for bitter tears. "I love you." His voice shook, hands gripping harder at her now slackening digits. "You promised to stay by my side."

She had been so ill, so sick that at times it seemed like she would leave him behind despite everything the doctors told him. At the last he was nearly begging, but he no longer cared if the night nurses heard him during his small breakdown. He would brave much worse than humbling himself if it meant keeping her next to him.

Outside it was raining, and he prayed for it to stop. One day he would be able to ease her against the fear of thunder, but now wasn't the time to break her of that phobia. It must have filtered into her dreams, and he wondered what kind of phantoms had stalked her through the night before he'd been jostled awake by her cries.

It was the things that he couldn't flex his will against that truly terrified him, the wounds that he couldn't heal in her soul and the sickness in her body that was beyond his power to fight against with his bare hands. It was times like these that, despite all of his training and strength of character and will, he felt truly helpless against in the dead of night. His father had once told him that it was what made him a man rather than a boy. The capability to realize that one could not conquer all, and the willingness to fear that fact was maturity beyond his years.

The realization did little to calm his heart as he tried to lull her back to sleep, praying that the storm would be brief in every sense of the word.

* * *

At their second New Years together, Mori had bought her an onamori. That year, unlike every other before, she hadn't burned her charm after the turn of the seasons. She'd tucked the study aid away in her school bag instead, allowing it to live on out of sight. She wasn't a sentimental person by nature, but, some things were hard not to attach meaning to.

At their third New Years together, she hardly blinked when he presented her with another. Something seemed different about the charm this time though, the silk was soft against her fingers and it was an entirely different color than the rest of the batch she'd seen laid out. They must have ran out of her version already, which seemed odd to her since she could have sworn she'd watched him buy it only minutes ago from a very elderly looking priestess who she'd only seen a handful of times at the shrine. And she'd looked through the booth before then, and hadn't seen any like it. It was odd.

She'd accepted it graciously, tucking it into her obi as she cautiously looked over their offerings once more before hesitating. Cautiously looking behind her, she made sure he was well distracted by Hani before she made her move. It was all of her pocket money for the entire month, but this time she had come prepared. She quickly made her selection, picking up the one she'd been eyeballing the entire time, nearly dumping her entire change-purse onto the counter in her rush to buy it before he noticed. The woman, who to her memory had retired her duties to her daughter and granddaughter, smiled toothlessly at her.

"I'll take this one please."

"Is it for him?" Her grin had turned knowing. But Haruhi was confused.

"For who?"

"Your young man."

She was still confused. "I don't have a young man, ma'am." She was polite, but let her puzzlement bleed through.

"Hmm? The one who bought yer charm, young lady?"

"Oh. He's just a friend. But yes, it is for him." She risked a peek over her shoulder, taking in Mori as he leaned against a tree in obvious discomfort. He'd taken a rather inopportune strike to the knee during a sparring session a week ago from a much younger trainee, and he was still favoring his left leg. Mori suited traditional clothes, and even in the crowd mixed with people dressed for another age, he stood out. His dark blue haori glinted in the lamplight as he shifted, and she had to tear her eyes away for fear he'd caught her staring. It was supposed to be a surprise.

When she looked back, the old woman was bowing over the counter, onamori between her palms as she prayed. Haruhi could only bow with her, wondering what was going on, waiting for the woman to finish her impromptu ceremony. She straightened as the priestess did, and took the onamori from her hands as it was offered to her. More confusion.

"Thanks."

"He needs a bit more help, I think. A little extra boost can't hurt."

Haruhi blinked, looking at the charm, before shrugging. "Oh. Thank you."

The elderly woman snickered, turning away as her daughter patted her on the shoulder to let her know she was taking over the booth. Haruhi bowed deeply as the woman waddled away. She looked down at the charm, turning it over in her hands, before moving to rejoin her friends.

When she turned around, she smacked solidly into a brick wall made of flesh. Mori grunted, his only concession to the blinding pain of his knee as he bent to support her entire weight lest she topple from her tall zori. She stumbled, ankle buckling as the strap of one sandal gave way under the sudden strain, and he tightened his grip. He held her firmly against his chest, arms wrapped under her own, his haori falling in a curtain around them.

Distracted by the sensation of his fingers accidentally slipping into the vents of her sleeves, she dropped the onamori. For a moment he simply held her, arms taught, before he walked slowly to a nearby bench, depositing her gingerly down, staring at her as she started protesting his help with an expression that could have dried paint. He looked at her white tabi once, before slowly limping back to pick up her broken footwear. He returned with her sandal in one hand, onamori in the other. When he went to hand back the charm, she shook her head.

"It's for you."

He searched her face before looking down at the charm. The kanji was for health. He forced himself to swallow, bowing as he placed the charm into his sleeve. Closing his eyes for a half second, he let the weight of the small charm in his makeshift pocket settle the butterflies in his stomach. She had _worried_ for him.

"Thank you."

Slowly he pulled out the charm, as if on second thought, threading the string carefully around the cord of the lacquered inro that he'd tucked into his obi that day. And then she began to yell at him as he tore a great strip out of the lining of that same very fine, very expensive haori with which to fix her broken hanao strap.

* * *

He watched, worriedly, as she began to spoon soup to her mouth. His hands twitched around his own chopsticks, wanting to drop them and grab the food from her to ladle it into her himself. The soup was piping hot, and Mori was worried that with her weak reflexes she would burn herself.

"Don't even think about it."

Mori grunted, tucking into his own food, all the while with one watchful eye trained on her slow moving and unsteady fingers. To his own mind, he allowed her the _allusion_ of self sufficiency. He'd never be willing to voice such a thought out loud to her though. She'd probably Usa-chan kick him into the pond outside her hospital room window. Haruhi had been moved out of the ICU and into a rehabilitation ward, with only a day or two to go before her release. It was going to be much simpler when he had her ensconced in the room set up at his home so he could take care of her as he wished. He was overjoyed with her progress, and excited.

With the small exception that he hadn't yet told her that he'd conspired with her father for the allowance to keep her at the Morinozuka compound. Yet, hadn't told her _yet_. He shifted in his seat, and Haruhi set down her spoon on the floating table before pinning him with a hard stare. It didn't bode well for him. She continued to stare at him as he stared back, shoveling rice into his mouth with graceful swipes of his hand.

"You're up to something." He felt sweat bead on his forehead. "I expect this out of Tamaki, but not _you_ Takashi." He cringed internally, outwardly forgoing any expression as he set aside his bowl to lace his fingers with her own.

"You will be released soon." It was a start.

"Yes?" He cupped her hand with his other palm, thumb moving in circles to soothe her.

"I have asked your father to allow me to take you to my home for the duration of your recovery."

"That's unnecessary, Takashi, I don't-" Her face said it all, so he forced himself to interrupt her despite the mental fetters that told him it was horrifically rude and coarse.

"Yes it is. For my peace of mind." She quieted. "I need to know that you are safe. I'll have nurses on call, and the staff can be with you when I am unable to. Your father has work, and it would be ungentlemanly for me to stay at your apartment with you alone. I have no wish to shame you in the eyes of others, and you will _not_ be left without help until you are fully healed." His voice was low as usual, but brooked little allowance for her to reject his demands. She hesitated. "Allow me this, Haruhi."

"I just don't see why it would be shameful for you to stay with me at the apartment and it somehow not by my invading your parent's home."

Before the words had even settled off her lips, the floating tray that had been wheeled over her bed was pushed out of the way and his lips were on hers, mouth tenderly devouring her as one hand crooked up her thigh past her nightgown. Her heart monitor exploded, and she felt her entire body light up into flames as he pressed her gently into the mattress. And then his touch was gone.

A nurse tumbled into the room at a dead run less than a second later, quickly checking her vitals before breaking out an ice pack to press to her flushed face. Mori sat as he was when the nurse had entered the room, completely composed in the chair he'd been sitting in earlier by a small table in the far corner of the room. Haruhi could only send him a bewildered glare as the nurse fussed over her slight fever before leaving to talk to the attending physician.

"Because when I'm alone with you, everyone will think _that_ is what we are doing."

She'd only ever heard him speak this much about Hani and fighting. She shook her head, eyes rolling skyward as she pressed the icepack against her throat. It was rather hot in the room after all.

"Why does it matter what other people think if it's not true?"

Mori shot her an unreadable look. "Haruhi-koi."

"_Yes_, Ta-ka-shi."

He moved to stand over her, taking her hand to press it to his chest. Underneath his thin t-shirt, she could feel his heart racing as fast as hers had been. Then he moved it downwards, to press lightly against the tent below his belt buckle. He'd instantly let go of her hand as her fingers twitched, face ablaze despite his carefully schooled features.

"Oh."

He grumbled, moving to painfully sit back down, intent on finishing his dinner.

* * *

"Hani-senpai! Mori-senpai!" Gingerly pushing open the door, she leaned out to peer around the taller boy suspiciously. She nearly cried from the relief as she surveyed the empty space behind them and the lack of chauffeurs. They were alone. "Uhmm.. Why are you here?"

"We wanted to take you out to a new restaurant Mori found!" Hani danced around Haruhi as she stood, confused, on the cement stoop outside her apartment door. Mori merely nodded, severe face unbending despite the flowery excitement of his cousin.

"But, why?"

Mori shrugged.

Haruhi sighed, leaning back until she found the doorjamb wearily. But... she narrowed her eyes, thinking they were playing tricks on her. Was he blushing? Impossible. Almost imperceptibly, Mori had reddened cheeks. He must have been out in the sun again too long.

"You should really wear sunscreen, Mori-senpai." He looked at her questioningly. "You're looking a little pink today. Repeated sunburn causes skin cancer."

"Ah." Huh. Even his voice sounded off, as if he'd swallowed something the wrong way. Maybe he'd been training outside too long? She'd once seen Mori bite dirt so hard she'd thought he'd lost teeth, but that was during his pre-university match with Hani. Maybe they had trained together the day before? Mori's eyes were staring fixedly on something behind her head. Did she leave something on the stove? All thoughts were derailed as Hani began to tug on her arm.

"Haru-Haru!"

"Yes, senpai."

He pouted.

"Yes, Hani-senpai." Hani sighed, tears in his eyes, and Haruhi couldn't help but give in to his adorable act. "Yes, _Mitsukuni_."

Even his smile gave her cavities. Nekozawa-senpai would have combusted into a black ball of sheer terror at the megawatts generated. And, did he seem taller? She blinked, checking his height against the railing he'd leaned against. Hani was nearly the same height as she was. Haruhi shivered.

He rocked back and forth on his heels. "Guess what?"

"What."

"Takashi won nationals again! Isn't that wonderful?"

"Mitsukuni." Mori's face was expressionless, but he practically radiated discomfort at Hani having imparted the information to their unwilling dinner guest.

"Congratulations, Mori-senpai!"

He nodded, and then slowly understanding dawned on Haruhi. She watched him closely, slowly smiling at him with a genuine warmth that she didn't need to fake in the slightest.

"We should celebrate."

This time his voice was steady, and his eyes lit happily into her own.

"Ah."

So they did. Together.

* * *

He was startled awake by a hand on his shoulders, and a glance up revealed his fathers stern face. Mori quickly stood from the chair, bowing as gingerly as his aching spine would allow.

Akira Morinozuka was tall, black haired, and slit eyed; a more weather beaten version of his eldest son. Dressed as ever in the traditional clothing favored by his family, the patriarch pulled at his short beard, surveying the room for entry points. Old habits died hard. Then he noticed the lack of Haninozuka, and he quietly sent thanks to the gods. This one took their family's obligation just a little too seriously.

He bowed his head to his son, telling him to straighten, before moving as close to the bed as his hakama would allow without bumping her lines. The older man took in her features under the misty white oxygen mask, nodding his approval. Mori blushed, shifting on the chair, and his father suppressed a chuckle at his bashfulness. All was silent in the room before he pulled up a chair beside his son, moving to join him in his quiet vigil.

"I think your mother would have liked her very much." He spoke softly, so not to wake her. Mori had spoken often of Haruhi to his father while at home, asking advice. Most of his responses had been far too forward for the reticent Morinozuka heir to take, but the clan head had done his best. He wanted his son to be happy. And this girl was the long and short of it.

When Mori turned, he noticed the small ring his father gripped in against his smallest finger. His mother had been a little woman as well, engulfed by her much taller husband, and her engagement ring had been as petite to match. He imagined it would fit Haruhi very near to size. Which terrified him in a way, after having watched his father grieving the loss of half his soul when the matriarch had died while giving birth to Satoshi so many years ago. His father had never recovered from losing her, choosing to walk alone in life rather than allowing another to take her place.

He imagined that he would do the same if she left him behind with their children. It was uncomfortably close to thinking about loosing Haruhi at all, given the current situation, so he let that entire line of brooding drift far out of mind. Medical science had made great strides since then, which was reassuring enough.

The older man held the rather small diamond up to the light, watching as the harsh fluorescent glare glinted off of it's facets. Without turning in his seat, he held it out to his son, who took it with head bowed in deference. Haruhi wouldn't have wanted an enormous ring, and Mori's mother had been much the same in the sense of her practicality. He was certain she would love it even more knowing it was something very dear to him. His mother had worn it every day until her death.

"You should probably wait to put it on until she's healed completely, or her fingers might swell. Make sure she takes it off a few months after she gets pregnant, too." Mori froze, turning to look at his father as the man let an absent grin the exact equal of his younger brother's spread across his face. "Had to have it repaired the first time around after they cut it off her finger."

Oh.

Mori looked at the ring in his hands, brain function stuttering to a halt.

* * *

She felt a gentle tug on her hand, and she frowned. Someone was rubbing lotion into her hands? Then she felt him climb into bed behind her. He smoothed back the hair from her brow, trailing fingertips down her eyes so that her lids closed back shut. She relented. Haruhi was genuinely exhausted enough to give in to her husbands smothering without a fuss - for the time being.

"Go back to sleep."

She hummed, turning her head back to the pillow as she twisted into his embrace. He'd pulled her back against him upon slipping between the sheets, his comforting scent settling over her like a sleep inducing lullaby. He shifted, snaking one arm around her body to curve around her swelling stomach. Mori's large hand traced patterns on his wife's belly, and she smiled, sleepily, at the gesture of tenderness. He was born to be a hard man, and he was raised to be unyielding. But not with his loved ones. Some nights he'd sit on the floor as she sat perched in front of him on the couch, silently tracing kanji on her stomach as he spoke to his unborn child in his own quiet language of love.

Even after they'd married, he still communicated more with his actions than spoken words. But that was Mori. And Haruhi had learned in life that actions spoke much louder than words, however much her husband was one to live by his oaths.

He'd promised to keep her safe. And Takashi Morinozuka kept his promises.

* * *

**Cultural Notes and Translations:**

_Tanto_ is the sister sword to a kodachi or wakizashi in daisho (samurai sword kit), basically it's a type of knife or short dagger. It has many uses, but it is also traditionally the type of knife used to commit seppuku/hara kiri (ritual or honorable suicide).

_Bogu_ is the light armor worn by kendo practitioners to protect their body from strikes by the shinai. It consists of a breast plate, gloves with wrist protection and a helmet that also shields the shoulders.

_Kote_ is a part of the bogu, and is a set of gloves for wrist and hand protection. The helmet is called _men_!

_Fundoshi_ is basically traditional Japanese underwear, think a samurais loin cloth lol! In the manga, Mori accidentally wears his karate uniform inside out because he's so distracted once.

_Haori_ is an overcoat for kimono.

_Zori_ are a type of sandals worn with kimono, often made of plastic vinyl or rush mat.

_Sleeve opening_ or miyatsu-kuchi, it's a gap under the arms for both ventilation and so that you can adjust the fit of the kimono by reaching in underneath the layers through this opening. So hard to explain!

_Tabi_ are the split socks worn with kimono or sandals.

_Inro_ are little medicine cases that are mostly used as objects d' art for men to hang from their obis nowadays.

_Hanao_ is the thong/strap used for zori or geta. That bit that goes in between your toes etc.

**Author's Notes:**

I had a lot more fun with this one, in terms of humor. It's a little more playful than the last installment. Which follows since it was meant to give more closure without elaborating too much to alleviate the non-stop angst and tension of first bit. I think I might end here, but, I'm very tempted to explore their marriage a little bit next. Maybe. I'm kind of trying to make it so that each of these could be a stand alone too, but for entirely no good reason?

Anyways, it was really encouraging when I got so much feedback after the first chapter. I was very much inspired to continue, so thank you! So many really amazing reviews. It also really helps that I admire Mori a lot as a character, he's a fun one to play with and my favorite host in the series. I love that he's a kendo guy! It makes me miss kendo lessons ;_;

For those of you waiting for an update on "This Once", I'm sorry for getting sidetracked by "Safe". It's made things a little bit difficult for me, since all of a sudden I noticed the overwhelming trend in my plotlines and I became upset by my own repetitiveness – bwah. I guess I'm just drawn to the same kind of story archetype. I'm about 1/4th finished with the upcoming chapter, though I will be traveling for the next few days, which might slow down my progress.


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